


No.21 Torture

by LiGi



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [21]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Hurt Gwaine (Merlin), Hurt Lancelot (Merlin), Implied/Referenced Torture, Injury, Pain, Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Torture, Violence, no 21
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29643561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiGi/pseuds/LiGi
Summary: Febuwhump 2021 day 21 - TortureLancelot and Gwaine are tortured for information about their king.
Relationships: Gwaine & Lancelot (Merlin)
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2137632
Comments: 10
Kudos: 37





	No.21 Torture

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the wonderful Onehelluvapilot. She is great, as is her writing, go and read it!

“Gwaine?” Lancelot gasped, trying to lift his head, but the pain in his neck was too great. He collapsed back down onto the table he was strapped to with a groan.

“Lance…” Gwaine’s voice was rough and strained, almost used up entirely by the screams that had been torn from him for the past few hours.

Never one to be sensible in the face of danger, Gwaine had sneered and teased their captors, replying flippantly to their questions until he had angered them beyond the point of reason. If they hadn’t been so certain that Gwaine had important information, Lancelot was sure they would have killed him on the spot for his insolence. Perhaps that would have been more merciful. They had, instead, taken their anger out on him, slowly, painfully, drawing from him terrible, almost inhuman sounds that Lancelot was sure would haunt him for the rest of his life. If they ever got out of here…

“Are you alright?” It seemed like a stupid question. An inadequate sentiment after all Gwaine had been through.

Gwaine grunted. “’m fine…” he said between huffs of laboured breath. “Had… hangovers… worse ‘n this…”

The bravado in his voice was spoilt somewhat by the way it cracked half way through the sentence. Lancelot wished he could reach out and touch the other knight, but his arms were securely fastened down, the heavy chains cutting into the bare skin of his wrists and biceps.

And he doubted there’d be a single place on Gwaine’s body that wouldn’t hurt if touched. The torturers had been angry and they had been thorough. But still Gwaine held his strength and had yet to tell them anything of value.

“Please stop goading them, Gwaine,” Lancelot whispered.

Gwaine grunted out what was probably supposed to be a laugh, if it hadn’t been so tinged with pain, but didn’t otherwise reply.

“You’re a brave man…” Lancelot told him. “Brave but foolish.” His own voice broke this time, although whether from the pain or from distress, he didn’t know. Tears were sliding down the side of his face, slipping into the tangled hair above his ears.

His own pain seemed trivial beside what Gwaine had endured, but the torturers had by no means left him unharmed. He felt like he’d been run over by several galloping horses, his entire body bruised, his fingers broken, his chest sliced. And that was nothing compared to the mental torture of hearing Gwaine’s screams, but being unable to see him.

He valued this short respite, this brief quiet time where he could focus on the ragged but still very much present sound of Gwaine’s breathing. But he knew it wouldn’t last long.

“No, no, no,” Lancelot moaned as all too soon the door creaked open again and their captors came back in, one laughing, the other cracking a short whip across his palm.

“Ready to tell us what we want now, pretty boy?”

Lancelot thrashed against his restraints as the two men both went over to Gwaine. He could hear his friend weakly struggling against his own bonds, each movement causing him to whimper.

And then he screamed again.

Lancelot couldn’t see what they were doing to him, but he heard the grinding click of the Rack's crank and the crack of bones underneath Gwaine’s yells.

“Stop it! Please,” Lancelot begged. “Please, can’t you see he can’t take any more?”

“Well, then maybe he should _talk_!” The man’s sentence was punctuated by a thud and Gwaine shouted out again.

“Or do _you_ want to tell us, instead?”

Footsteps came towards him and then pain exploded in Lancelot’s side as a short dagger was rammed under his ribs. As much as he tried to stop it, a yell burst from his lips.

“Lance, no…” Gwaine rasped through pained sobs.

The dagger was dragged out and the tip placed on Lancelot’s collarbone, digging in as it was slid up towards his neck.

“Tell us where the king is!” the man demanded, his putrid breath washing over Lancelot’s face as he leant closer.

Before Lancelot could so much as flinch away, there was an almighty crash from the doorway and the heavy iron door was flung back on its hinges and smashed into the wall. The knife was jerked away from Lancelot as the man turned.

“He’s here,” came a fierce growl from the door and more tears sprang to Lancelot’s eyes at the familiarity of it.

Blades clashed and the men screamed. And before long Lancelot was staring up into Arthur’s worried face. There was a splatter of blood across the king’s cheek but it didn’t look like it was his.

“Lancelot?” he questioned frantically as his hands scrabbled at the chains around him.

“Gwaine… help Gwaine,” Lancelot moaned. He could wait, his friend needed the help more.

“Merlin’s got him. What happened?” Arthur sounded appalled, his eyes lingering on the cuts across Lancelot’s chest, the hammer and pliers on the table beside him.

“They were looking for you. Wanted to know your movements, your battle plans.”

Lancelot cried out as the chains were slid from his arms, tugging at the wounds where dried blood had stuck the metal to his skin. Arthur put a steadying apologetic hand on Lancelot’s sternum, careful to avoid the myriad of slices. His eyes, full of concern, were roaming over Lancelot, checking for other injuries.

Lancelot lifted one arm, pain searing up his shoulder and burning through him, but he forced his hand to grip Arthur’s arm, making the king meet his eyes. He squeezed as hard as he could to put sincerity into his words.

“We told them nothing.”

“I never would have doubted you, Lancelot,” Arthur said fiercely, but Lancelot caught a glint of relief at the back of Arthur’s gaze.

Slowly and carefully, Arthur helped Lancelot into a sitting position, holding him against his chest as he wavered. Biting his lip to keep from crying out, Lancelot let his feet touch the ground, dizziness washing through his pounding head. He looked across the room, tears blurring his vision, and let out a small whimper.

Merlin had lifted an unconscious Gwaine into his arms; Lancelot suspected it was magic that was holding him however, because Merlin’s grip was too loose and gentle around Gwaine’s wounded torso to be supporting any of his weight.

Gwaine looked awful – he was covered in blood, one arm clearly dislocated and broken, his skin black and blue with bruises – and Lancelot’s heart tugged painfully in his chest.

“Thank you for finding us,” he muttered into the king’s shoulder as Arthur hoisted him onto his feet, his arm tight around Lancelot’s waist to keep him upright.

“Of course, Lancelot. You’re my knights. You’re my brothers.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love any and all comments!


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